It's All Him
by Shadow 3013
Summary: Our favorite Slytherin (Draco) recalls his childhood, and how he made his first friend. Possible shonen-ai/slash/yaoi, but very light, and can be taken as mere friendship if you wish.


All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. I'm just playing with them, forgive me if I mess up… This is the first fic I've ever written from this character's PoV. It can be taken as shonen- ai/slash/yaoi, but it doesn't have to be, it can be just friendship. Uhhm… Tell me if you want more. So read and review. Please. Thanks.  
  
* * *  
  
I can still remember when we first met. We were both very young, perhaps five years old at the very most. An age and time that, all things considered, I should remember nothing about… But I do. I remember you.  
  
The members of the Ministry, from the lowest up to the highest, were having a party of some sort. They were all in their best robes, or what looked to me to be their best, so I suppose that it could have just been a large business gathering… But then why would my father have bothered to take me with him?  
  
Whatever it was, your family was there too. Obviously. I never saw any of them, only you. I saw a splash of bright red bobbing along at the level of my face, and went to follow it. After all, if it was my level, it was probably good, and anything that color just had to be fun. It didn't take long for me to find you. Truthfully, I was glad to find someone else my age, especially someone that was nice to play with.  
  
We ran around all day, using sticks as make-believe wands, and we shared the toy broomstick my parents had bought for me only a few days before. I had already tired of the plaything, but I liked the way your face lit up when you ran around on it. I don't think I'd ever seen anyone genuinely happy before. I'd certainly never seen anyone as happy as you, whether or not they were faking it. It was amazing; I was absolutely fascinated.  
  
All day long we played, laughing and running, tumbling in the grass outside, or on the thick carpet inside. Dodging in and out among the legs of the adults, grabbing on to the hems of robes to keep ourselves from falling. It was so much fun.  
  
My father didn't find me until it started to get dark. I don't know if he'd been looking for long. In fact, looking back on it now, I doubt he had been, but when he saw who I was playing with, he was furious. He cuffed me on the back of my head; it stung quite a bit. I wasn't used to physical violence from him, he had always had people to scold me for him. It was quite a shock to a five year old boy, especially since I didn't understand what I'd done that was so wrong.  
  
I can't recall what my reaction was as he waved his wand, levitating me in the air, and walked off, floating me along behind him. I was probably angry, or sad, perhaps both… But I know that I kept silent. I had been taught at an even younger age to always stay silent when either of my parents were mad.  
  
But you? Your reaction I remember clearly. You ran after us, screaming and throwing anything you could get your hands on at my father. He glared at you, and I'm sure that had there not been so many adults present, he would have cast some minor curse on you.  
  
All your attempts to keep me from leaving proved futile. The other adults were so busy talking of work and chatting happily that I doubt they noticed your temper tantrum. I realize now that He Who Must Not Be Named had been gone for only a few years, and people were still wary, but happy at the chance to finally have fun. No wonder they didn't bother to quiet you down.  
  
As the years passed, I didn't forget you. Even though we'd only played together for one day, and I never even learned your name… You were the only friend I'd ever had. I missed you a great deal at first, but then I taught myself to force you out of my mind. It was easier to handle my life if I forgot that I'd ever been that truly happy before.  
  
Six years passed before I saw you again. Six long years that dragged by, minute after painstakingly slow minute. Then I got on the Hogwarts Express, painted a bright red that brought back old memories.  
  
I saw you again on that trip to Hogwarts, my new home. I was surprised, yet not… I was upset, because you were sitting with another person, but who was I to talk? After all, I had two people following me around as well.  
  
I know that I was rude, unforgivably so, as well as cruel, that day. Why? Quite simply put, I was scared witless. I didn't want to lose you a second time, but you didn't seem to remember me anymore…  
  
That's why I decided to not bother trying to make you remember. Just as long as you paid me notice, I would be happy. I could tell that the boy with green eyes, dark hair and glasses, the boy I quickly learned was the infamous Harry Potter, was already your new friend. I could never compete with such a bright, smiling person.  
  
So I did the only other thing I could think of to gain your attention. I was mean, and instructed my lackeys to be the same. They listened, of course. It worked.  
  
Six years later, it's still working. You still hate me, you still don't remember me, and you have yet to understand why I am treating you like this, doing this to you. I wish that I could try to be your friend again, but it's too late. The emerald eyed boy has taken up almost all of your time; it's all about him. The bushy-haired, bucktoothed girl takes up what little time you have left. There is no room for me as a pleasant constant, or even a happy variable, in your life.  
  
Be glad, Ron Weasley. You are loved not only by the infamous Harry Potter and the perfect Hermione Granger…  
  
You are also loved by me. Draco Malfoy himself. You are the only person in this world to earn the sole emotion of my love. I both hate and love my parents, and Harry. I truly hate many of our schoolmates at Hogwarts. I hate He Who Must Not Be Named. But you? You are the only one I simply love.  
  
Such a pity that you will never know the truth of my feelings…  
  
It's all him, now.  
  
Damn Harry Potter to bloody hell. I truly wish that he would have been "The Boy Who Died." Perhaps then I'd have a distant chance with you?  
  
Regardless, I've no time to dream.  
  
It may be all him now… But I have schemes to plot, and I will go on with my life. No matter how painful that can sometimes be. 


End file.
